crazy
by jynxhasadragon
Summary: she remembered working with him before, years ago when mara still reigned and when skolas had been her biggest concern. he'd changed, and petra wasn't sure how she felt about it. [mc, complete.]
1. drown

_Find__ someone who's got the same amount of crazy as you_, Cayde had always told her. She'd thought that someone had been Cayde himself for a time but clearly, that had not gone as planned.

Petra scoffed into her drink before downing the remaining half-glass in a single gulp. _'Crazy' hardly describes you, Venj._ A Hunter had told her that, not long ago. Her lips curled back in distaste towards the dark driblets of her drink still left in the cup. The Spider had been more than happy to move his crew into this old tavern after the aforementioned Hunter had cleared it of any less-than-desirable occupants. The new owner of said tavern had decided to keep the arena that the rival Fallen on the Shore had been running, evident with the bloodied and bruised combatants who stumbled through the doors every so often. She slammed her glass down on the table.

"Soviks!" she hollered. The vandal behind the counter glanced up.

"More of that whatever-it-is-you-call-it," she said. "Don't want any memory of today after this," she mumbled as Soviks filled her glass.

"Wrath drink too much, yes?" the vandal said as he placed the pitcher on the counter, wiping up any drops that sloshed over the rim with a rag he'd suddenly procured. She simply grunted and downed another half of her glass, pointedly ignoring his remark. Soviks clicked his tongue in annoyance before moving further down the counter to fill another patron's glass. Petra swirled her dark drink as she waited for him to return. Even she had to admit, alcohol always tasted better amidst conversation. At least, she hoped it was alcohol.

"Any news of our friend?" she asked when Soviks finally came back to her. He shook his head as he began polishing a glass with his primary arms, resting his other two on the counter before her.

"Soviks has heard nothing, when Little Spider went for Pirrha," he replied. Little Spider. That was what the Spider's men called Nikolai, the taciturn Hunter who had made a name for himself as one of the Shore's deadliest occupants. He'd staked one of the back rooms in the tavern as his territory and a sort of "base of operations" for the two of them. Any and all residents knew well enough to steer clear of that room, if the knife embedded in the door was any indication. Nikolai had been on a bit of a murder spree as of late, hunting down the Scorned Barons and leaving their bodies as either unidentifiable masses of flesh or simply leaving nothing at all. She remembered working with him before, years ago when Mara still reigned and when Skolas had been her biggest concern. He'd changed, and Petra wasn't sure how she felt about it.

Pirrha. Nikolai had gone after the Rifleman about a week ago, and things have been radio silent for him ever since. That made her uncomfortable; normally he checked in regularly with her while away, just to remind her that he was still alive. Whether he did such a thing out of compassion or simple practicality, she would never know.

_Someone who's got the same amount of crazy._ She'd sooner become a Hive god than find someone like that. She took a sip of her drink as she slipped into contemplation. Where could he have gone, and why would he suddenly be silent? He'd tell her if he needed to go dark for a mission, right? The old Nikolai would have, but...this wasn't the old Nikolai.

"She worries about Little Spider, yes?" Soviks said, placing the glass behind him atop a shelf. Petra sighed and placed her chin in the palm of her hand, tracing the rim of her cup lazily with a pale finger.

"Unfortunately." Really, she shouldn't be worrying over her companion. He'd proven himself to be more than capable on multiple occasions. She glanced over at the vandal. "You don't know when he'll be back?"

Soviks chattered quietly in response, rubbing his neck with clawed fingers. "Perhaps soon, Wrath."

Petra grunted. "Soon" could be anywhere between a few hours to a few weeks. She glanced at the half-full glass beneath her hand, then raised it to her lips and took a deep swallow. Worrying over him and his damned quest for vengeance wouldn't do her any good, now. Besides, she didn't know when she'd have another night to herself.


	2. pain

_"Only someone as crazy as you would go after him."_

He'd scoffed. _"I_ am _the only one here capable of dancing toe-to-toe with him, as far as I know."_

Reksis Vahn, the Hangman. Hiraks, the Mindbender. Yaviks, the Rider. Kaniks, the Mad Bomber. Araskes, the Trickster. And Pirrha, the Rifleman.

Pirrha...had been a different kind of quarry entirely.

Nikolai stumbled down the steps of the Empty Tank, wincing in pain as fire shot up his leg. _You're a paranoid man, Nikolai Orlov. Let your Ghost heal you._

That had been how Cayde died.

He grabbed for some semblance of a grip on the walls outside the entrance, breathing in and out slowly and deeply as he waited for the throbbing to subside enough to walk. Petra would give him quite the scolding for going dark on her so suddenly. He hoped she would understand his reasoning. Then again, he doubted he'd have the energy to listen to her tongue lashings, let alone protest them. Maybe she'd let him rest first. _A man can dream_, he thought sardonically. No, she wouldn't allow that.

He pushed himself away from the wall a moment later before opening the door and limping through. His left boot squelched with blood and left prints behind on the floors, much to his annoyance, and he was painfully aware of the torn fabric on his right sleeve as all eyes turned to him. He didn't see that familiar head of wine red hair anywhere. Perhaps she was asleep.

The pub fell silent as he passed through, fallen and awoken and human alike all watching him warily. They knew who he was. He cursed silently. He should have let Oksana heal him outside that door, before these patrons saw him in his bloodied and weakened state. Soviks glanced up at him from behind the counter and chattered a low greeting in his native Eliksni tongue. That vandal had grown old long ago. He was fortunate to still have his head.

"Petra, she rests now," Soviks murmured when Nikolai approached. "She has been worried of you, yes?" He nodded his thanks as Soviks handed him a clean rag and limped off towards their rooms.

She was seated at a desk in the opposite corner, dressed in more casual attire with her usual uniform folded in a neat pile atop her mattress. Her hands flew across the holographic keyboard before her, typing out what he assumed to be status reports to the Awoken Paladins at the Vestian Outpost. Petra glanced up towards him when he entered, a slight hint of annoyance flashing across her features. The door shut behind him.

"I thought I asked not to be- _Light_, Nikolai, are you alright?!" she exclaimed, rising from her seat almost immediately and rushing towards him. His leg finally gave out from underneath him and the support she offered was the only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely.

Petra helped him to her mattress as Oksana transmatted away the bulk of his armor, leaving Nikolai in his torn shirt and riding trousers. Blood splashed onto the floors as his boot dematerialized, making the metallic scent ever more prevalent in the small room. He didn't complain as she cut open his pant let to assess the wound. At least she wasn't nagging him about not letting Oksana heal him.

"That must have hurt like hell, riding back on a sparrow with that devil of a wound," she said. "Why did you not let your Ghost heal you?"

So much for not nagging. He sighed heavily and winced in pain as Petra continued her prodding at his thigh.

"You're missing an entire chunk of your leg, Nikolai! What the hell bit you, and why didn't you heal it?!"

He pressed his lips together in a thin line as she continued prodding at the wound. Oksana hovered just above his shoulder nervously, eyeing his wound with a crestfallen look. A sigh escaped Petra's pale lips.

"If you're not going to tell me why you wouldn't let poor Oksana heal you, at least explain why you didn't tend to it. You've lost...a lot of blood."

He grunted. "No time."

He handed her the rag Soviks had given him and she pressed it gently against the raw flesh. He hissed in pain as fire shot up his leg once again, balling up his fists subconciously.

"And what about after?" she continued.

"Well, you're doing that now, aren't you?" he said quietly, exhaling slowly as he spoke. He swore he caught a ghost of a smile on those lips, breaking out from beneath those many layers of professionality she hid behind, but it was gone as soon as it came.

They were silent after that, with Petra cleaning out, disinfecting, and bandaging the wound on Nikolai's leg. She's probably figured out where that came from, what with her wide array of knowledge of both the martial and medical. She didn't say anything of it, though, so he opted to stay silent as she worked. Oksana phased in eventually, leaving the two of them alone in that small room that smelled of blood.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" she asked some time after she had finished. He was lying down on his own mattress, now, and the blood had been cleaned up from the floor. Oksana was still phased in.

Nikolai sighed quietly as he picked at the bandages on his leg unconsciously. Yes, he did want to talk about it. He had questions that he needed answered. "Emotional baggage", as Cayde would have called it.

"No," he mumbled quietly. He heard Petra sigh from across the room.

"Alright," she said almost inaudibly. He heard quiet shuffling and footsteps as she left to her corner of the room, and his heart fell as she began typing out reports once again. He should have said something.

He didn't though. He fell asleep feeling guilty.


	3. ghost

He awoke to the scent of grease and alcohol. Not an uncommon scent in the Empty Tank, to be sure. Despite the dimmed lights, Nikolai squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again to readjust. He felt something hard nudge against his cheek. Oksana.

"Get up, you, you've been asleep all day," his Ghost murmured quietly. He frowned at her.

"You should be phased in. 'S safer, 'ksana," he mumbled. She twirled in annoyance and flashed her beam at him a few times.

"I like to think that I'm a perfectly capable Ghost and can look after myself, thank you very much," she said defiantly. Nikolai winced. Sundance had been the same way. Undoubtedly, that was what had gotten her—and ultimately Cayde—killed.

He sighed and fought to keep his eyelids from closing. She was right—he should get up. His lips thinned in annoyance as he braced himself for the inevitable pain of moving when injured. A slow breath, and he sat up in one motion. No pain. What?

"Petra told me to heal you, Nik," his Ghost said hesitantly. "She was worried about…" Oksana trails off.

His feels his heart stop in his chest as she tells him. No, no, dammit, _no_, they can't know he's here—

"What's the point in hiding your Light, Nik?" Oksana asked, quiet bitterness seeping into her mechanical voice. "Everyone here knows you're one of them, there's no hiding from that. Refusing healing out of paranoia that something will track you down and murder you in your sleep is downright harmful and cowardly."

_Can't help her when you're dead._ He fell silent as he placed his feet on the ground. A part of him knew his fears were irrational and detrimental, but…Light, he couldn't keep going on like this. Oksana nudged him again, gentler now than when she had woken him.

"Let me help you," she mumbled, her shell drooping as she spoke. "You're not okay, you're hurt in a way I can't heal," she continued. "Just—I'm your Ghost, for Traveler's sake! I'm your Ghost and you're my Guardian, and I'm supposed to help you!"

A pang of sorrow struck him in his chest as she spoke, her candid words sinking deep into his mind. He didn't reply, only closing his eyes with a slow motion and frowning ever so slightly. Oksana pushed away from him eventually before phasing in and leaving him alone in the dimly lit room.

~o:O:o~

**shorter chapter than usual today, sorry. the next will be longer and possibly the last, not sure yet. thanks x**


	4. seed

Petra shifted from atop her perch in the Landing, hundreds of feet above any form of solid ground. The Spider's fallen were at work below, guiding a Skiff loaded with questionable goods towards the docks. It's been two days since Nikolai stumbled back to the Tank, and she hasn't seen hide nor hair of him since. It worried her.

Her mouth twisted with distaste as her eyes travelled up towards the gargantuan asteroids above. She worried too much. And about him, especially. He was competent. He could manage on his own. She was just a minor character in his story, a companion that came and went with time.

She wondered if she was content with that.

A sigh escaped her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut, gloved hands gripping the edge of the bridge as she tried to banish the thoughts from her mind. Their hunt was nearly over. Elykris, then Fikrul, then Uldren. Then...perhaps Her Highness Mara Sov still lived. Petra was beginning to get an idea of what Uldren was truly after, but she couldn't confirm nor deny any of her theories at the moment. She bit her lip in hesitant contemplation. If she was wrong, the secrets of the awoken might yet be preserved. If she was correct, though…The thought would have horrified her back on Amethyst, training to become a Techeun. Now, though, it was a bitter reality that could manifest all too quickly.

The air stirred about her as she sat in contemplation. She wouldn't have noticed if her companion were anybody else, that she was sure. His quiet footsteps gave him away, though. She wondered idly of that had been intentional.

Nikolai dropped the cloaking spell as he settled into a spot beside her. Petra raised an eyebrow towards him when he did not speak. A million questions buzzed about in her head. _How are you feeling,_ or _where have you been,_ or _when do you plan on leaving,_ or _why did you go dark on me,_ or… She pushed the last out of her mind. Now was not the time to discuss those sort of personal matters.

He handed her a small wrapped package after a moment before producing another from his pouch and tearing it open. She cocked her head in curiosity when he pulled out a small handful of seeds and began to peel and eat them slowly before tearing open hers and peering inside.

"_Semechki_," Nikolai offered in response to her quizzical glance. "Sunflower seeds."

She nodded slowly before cracking one open. She'd only ever seen them fully peeled during her time in the City as an emissary. He was silent as they ate, a sudden air of sobriety falling over the two of them. She itched to question him about—everything, really. Idly, she wondered where he'd gotten ahold of the seeds.

"Ana has a stash of them. She...doesn't notice when a few go missing now and then," Nikolai said quietly. Petra blinked.

"Did I...say that out loud?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said simply. She cracked a smile. That meant yes, then. She'd need to keep more control over herself in the future. _Old habits die hard_, she thought with a sigh.

"Sorry."

His sudden apology caught her off guard. She blinked again as she attempted to organize her thoughts to no avail.

"What?"

Nikolai made no move to reply as he brushed a small pile of accumulated shells off the bridge. His platinum hair obscured his face from view, so she was left to dig for herself.

"...For?" she asked carefully. He didn't apologize often, she realized. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Well...everything, really," he said, looking off in the opposite direction. She hummed quietly. Something was bothering him, to be sure.

"Care to explain?"

He winced slightly, evident by his tightening posture. What could be bothering him enough for him to apologize over? Perhaps he was finally addressing his disappearance while hunting for the Rifleman.

"I...you..," he said, searching for the right words. He turned back in her direction, enough for her to catch a glimpse of his bothered expression. She placed her hand on his wrist gently, in a sort of encouragement for him to continue. He did so reluctantly.

"I put you under a lot of stress recently, didn't I?"

Petra hadn't been expecting that. Stress? She supposed so, what with her worrisome attitude as of late. It was certainly a comfort, knowing where he was and whether he was somewhere safe or not. Guardians may be immortal, but they were not invincible. She's been reminded of that all too often in her own life. He continued on.

"I didn't mean to, if that's what you're thinking. Just...a lot of things on my mind recently. And—about the whole disappearance thing..."

"I was wondering about that," she said, cocking her head slightly. He sighed quietly and cocked his head away from her, as if he were choosing his next few words carefully.

"It was an...extra precaution," he said finally. "Going into a fight where I didn't know what he had up his sleeve, you know?"

"I see," Petra said quietly. And she supposed she did. Yes, she would have preferred for him to keep their connection while he was away. Perhaps it was distracting, then? Or was he worried about the Barons tracking the signals?

They fell silent once again, and Petra returned to eating her seeds. A wind blew about the two of them as they ate slowly, and Nikolai's hair was stirred enough for her to get a good look at his face. He kept his helmet on, most of the time, although he did take it off when the two of them were alone.

Nikolai's deathly pale skin had worried her greatly when they'd first met. She'd thought him to be sick (as if Guardians could get sick) and it had taken him some time to explain to her about albinism at the time. His skin hasn't darkened at all since then, although he was beginning to show signs of exhaustion. There were hints of bags under those ruby red eyes of his. And he was in need of a shave. Possibly a haircut as well, but Petra rather liked the length it was at. He shifted uncomfortably when he noticed her studying gaze. She simply smiled and shrugged it off.

"Zavala didn't want me to come here," he murmured quietly several minutes later, after a small pile of shells had accumulated between the two of them. Petra scoffed.

"Figures. Zavala's a tad bit uptight, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose," he replied with a slight shrug.

"So…why did you come, if you didn't need to come out here? she asked as she peered out towards the docks below. "Aside from vengeance, of course," she finished. The Skiff had just finished unloading, and now Fallen scampered about as they sorted and recorded the newly acquired goods for transportation.

"...I do a lot of things that don't necessarily _need_ to be done," he replied a moment later.

"Such as?" she asked, her eyebrows raising ever so slightly as her curiosity piqued.

"Well…"

Petra hadn't expected to feel his hand on her cheek, nor had she expected to find her lips on his. His lips were surprisingly soft, to be sure, and she found herself not wanting for him to stop. He doesn't often do as she'd like though, as she's reminded of shortly after he breaks it off a moment later. Too early, in her honest opinion. She'd have liked a few moments more.

"Crazy bastard," she breathed, still flustered from their kiss.

"Like that," he finished, a small smile tugging at the corners of those lips.

She laughed quietly in response, her skin prickling as another wind swept through the area.

"That didn't need to happen, certainly," she said, tugging her cloak around herself in a distracted attempt to keep the cold away from her skin. "Although…"

"Hm?"

She blushed much more than she would have liked to in this situation. Petra Venj, Queen's Wrath and Regent-Commander of the Awoken, blushing like a little girl during her first Revelry Dance. Pinar would have had a hoot.

"I...wouldn't mind if it happened more often, I suppose," Petra said quietly.

He smiled slightly before pressing his lips against hers once again. This time, she wasn't taken by surprise as she responded, her heart beating much faster than she would have liked. Trace amounts of stubble scratched at her skin, and she hummed quietly. His lips were salty, she noted. She liked that.

"How much longer do you have here?" she asked quietly a short time later. She's pressed up against him with her fingers tangled in his hair, with his arm around her waist to hold her steady. Blood red eyes. They're never not going to fascinate her.

Nikolai hesitated slightly before he spoke. "...A week, without interruptions. Hopefully."

"And after?" She combed her fingers through his hair gently, more to simply touch him than anything else.

He shifted slightly. "I'm already in hot water with the Vanguard right now," he replied sheepishly. "But…"

"But?" she asked, twisting a strand around her finger.

"I'm not leaving until it's finished," he said finally, quiet determination seeping into his voice as he took her hand in his.

She knew he wouldn't—if that tone didn't indicate enough, it was because she trusted him more than any other right now. And, though she would never admit it, she needed him right now. As a support for her, and her for him. Traveler knows they need it.

~o:O:o~

**i was doing tangled shore bounties a few days ago because i was short on glimmer and one of the patrols i started was in sorik's cut (because i also needed the cabal kills okay) and it was one of those observation ones well guess what it took me all the way to that bridge in thieves landing on top of that big old main building thing and i was so upset****(oh and uhh ig this is done now lol? petra doesnt get enough love in this community imo so thats one reason i wrote this)****(plus its been forever since ive written or read any form of romance so excuse my awkward writing rip)****(kk thx bye x)**


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